


I Want Crazy

by unbecomings



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 11:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbecomings/pseuds/unbecomings
Summary: Emily is not Lindsey's girlfriend.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 9
Kudos: 140





	I Want Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This is just dumb and light, but don't be fooled. It's still horny.

Emily is not Lindsey’s girlfriend. 

They have sex. They have a _lot_ of sex, in every room of their apartment. They basically always sleep in the same bed. Sometimes they make a show of going to sleep in different rooms but Lindsey will always slip back through Emily’s door before Emily is asleep and crawl under the blankets with her. Emily pays for coffee. Lindsey pays for dinner. One time Emily reaches for Lindsey’s hand on the street without thinking and Lindsey even let her hold it for a few seconds before Emily panicked and let go. But Emily is _not_ Lindsey’s girlfriend. 

So she has no right to be this annoyed when Lindsey uploads a picture of her holding Hayley and Ellie’s hands as they walk into the stadium and captions it with, “my girlfriends :),” but she is anyway. Lindsey uploads it from the other end of the couch and Emily burns with jealousy when she double-taps to like it, knowing that if she doesn’t Lindsey will ask her to. 

Nobody knows about them. At least, Emily hasn’t told anyone, and she gets the feeling that Lindsey hasn’t, either. Emily can’t even text someone to complain. All she can do is sulk through an episode of Grey’s she’s seen seventeen times and hope that Lindsey notices. 

“Hey,” Lindsey says when the credits roll, and Emily looks at her, but she doesn’t say anything. 

Lindsey slides down the couch to sit practically on top of Emily, then places her hand high on Emily’s thigh. 

“Hi,” Lindsey says again. 

“You can just say you want to have sex,” Emily snips. Lindsey looks briefly hurt when she takes her hand back, but then her expression goes blank. 

“And you can just say you don’t want to,” she says. 

Emily does want to. Emily wants Lindsey, wants her _all the time_. 

“I don’t want to,” she lies. 

“Like, ever?” Lindsey asks, and Emily snaps. She launches herself off of the couch so she doesn’t have to look at Lindsey’s face when she speaks again, throwing her words back over her shoulder on the way to her room. 

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriends,” Emily says, “I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

She closes her door behind her and Lindsey comes to it after a few seconds. Emily, sitting on the edge of her bed scrolling through Twitter and blinking through frustrated tears, can hear it when Lindsey presses her forehead against the door. 

“Dude,” Lindsey says, “are you serious or are you fucking with me?”

Emily says nothing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re serious,” Lindsey says. 

“More serious than you are,” Emily replies, and when her voice betrays her and cracks she has to lock her phone and drop her face into her hands. 

“I _wasn’t_ serious,” Lindsey says, “obviously, Son, it was a joke. Nobody read it like that. Nobody actually thinks that they’re my girlfriends.”

When Emily doesn’t answer her, Lindsey must move. Emily can hear her but can’t imagine what she’s doing, because she can tell Lindsey hasn’t left even before Lindsey speaks again. By now Emily is pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, keeping her breathing even so that she won’t actually cry. It would be way too stupid of a thing to cry about.

“Please don’t dump me over an Instagram caption,” Lindsey mumbles.

Emily has to laugh. It comes out as a derisive snort, and if Emily was worried about being cute it’s a sound she would hate, but they’re past that point.

“I’m not dumping you,” Emily says, “you can’t dump someone you’re not dating.”

Lindsey is quiet for a long time then. Emily thinks Lindsey is gone and she gets off of the bed to rummage through her drawers for pajamas. She’s about to start changing before she realizes the shirt is Lindsey’s, and then she shoves it back into the drawer and tries to breathe out through her nose in increments. But Lindsey is not gone.

“I changed it,” Lindsey says.

“I don’t care,” Emily replies automatically, but she does check, and the ‘Darlins :)’ caption does make her feel better. That feels stupid, too. The whole thing feels stupid, right down to sleeping with Lindsey in the first place. Emilys not sure how she could reasonably have expected anything more than this.

“Please, Em,” Lindsey says, “can I just come in and talk to you?”

Maybe it’s the nickname. Maybe it’s the new Instagram caption or the tone of Lindsey’s voice or the fact that she’s still there trying to talk about this thing, even though it’s ridiculous. Maybe it’s just that Lindsey’s never going to be exactly what Emily expects or wants, and that’s why Emily liked her to begin with. Whatever it is that drives her, she ends up going to the door and opening it, and Lindsey blinks back at her looking appropriately sheepish.

“I don’t wanna talk,” Emily says.

She reaches for one of the strings on Lindsey’s hoodie and pulls it until she’s ruined the symmetry entirely. 

“Hey,” Lindsey says, trying to duck away from her, and that’s when Emily takes Lindsey’s face in her hands and kisses her.

“Em,” Lindsey says again when they pull back, but Emily doesn’t wait for her to keep talking. Instead she uses her hands on Lindsey’s shoulders to turn her and press her against the dresser, because getting Lindsey all the way to the bed without her trying to talk is going to be impossible, and talking would take too long. Lindsey kisses her back, winding her arms around Emily’s neck, and Emily slips her hands just under Lindsey’s shirt to rest against her sides. The kiss goes on until Emily needs to breathe, and then she redirects to Lindsey’s neck. She can hear and feel it when Lindsey laughs. 

“I thought you didn’t wanna have sex”, Lindsey says, and Emily pinches her hip. 

“Never said that,” Emily mumbles. 

“Yes you did,” Lindsey replies, “I remember. I was just there. It just happened.”

“Lindsey,” Emily says, lifting her head, “I wanna have sex. Sex with you. Right here right now. All the time actually. Good enough?”

“Hmm,” Lindsey says, and Emily knows that means ‘prove it.’

Emily presses Lindsey harder into the dresser, palming Lindsey’s sides when she dips her head to give Lindsey an obvious, livid hickey just above the collar of her shirt. Lindsey exhales and rests her hands on Emily’s shoulders like she’s not sure what to do with them, and Emily doesn’t lift her head until Lindsey squeaks and pushes gently at her shoulder. She looks down at the spot where it’s reddening, and Emily smirks at her. She doesn’t wait for Lindsey to roll her eyes because she knows it’s coming. Instead she works a thigh between Lindsey’s, bending her knee and propping her foot up on her toes, and feels smug again when Lindsey rocks down against her. 

Emily wants Lindsey horizontal, but she knows she has time for that. Right now what she _really_ wants is to hear Lindsey make a little noise. She takes Lindsey’s hands in her hips and pulls Lindsey down against her thigh again. This time when she does it, Lindsey gasps, and Emily pushes one hand up under Lindsey’s shirt to grope at Lindsey’s breast over her bra. She can do better, obviously, and they both know it, but it’s just enough that Lindsey finally does groan. 

“I want this off,” Emily says, pulling on the collar of Lindsey’s shirt.

“Take it off then,” Lindsey says, and Emily kisses her again. When she bites down on Lindsey’s lower lip, Lindsey laughs into her mouth and pulls her shirt over her head. 

Before Lindsey can demand that Emily take her to bed--and she will if Emily gives her the chance--Emily replaces the thigh between Lindsey’s legs with her hand, putting pressure against the inseam of her leggings, giving Lindsey a little bit more of the precise kind of friction she wants. Lindsey tilts her head back, pulling at Emily’s shirt by the shoulders, but Emily doesn’t move to undress. Instead she finds a way to unhook Lindsey’s bra with one hand while she’s working her other hand down the front of Lindsey’s leggings.

“Here?” Lindsey asks, and Emily slides her fingers against Lindsey until Lindsey’s mouth is open for another, better reason.

“You’re not complaining, are you?” Emily asks, pressing the fingertips of her index and middle fingers against Lindsey in exactly the way she needs to if she wants Lindsey to lose the ability to sass her. Lindsey shakes her head breathlessly, and Emily smirks against Lindsey’s neck. Emily thrusts her fingers against Lindsey, unable to give her much more than that friction without taking the time to actually take Lindsey’s leggings off, and after a while that’s enough to get Lindsey close. 

There’s something immensely satisfying about making Lindsey come like this, half-clothed and standing up, panting out Emily’s name. Lindsey clearly wasn’t ready for it because she needs Emily to help her stay upright, and Emily loves that, too, loves how much Lindsey wants her, how that’s something she never has to guess at. Lindsey drops her forehead to Emily’s shoulder and laughs, and Emily reaches up and pushes Lindsey’s hair away from her cheek to kiss her there. Emily can hold Lindsey up and Lindsey knows it, but she’s still careful about resting her weight against Emily when she goes boneless. 

“Gonna make it to the bed?” Emily asks gently, teasing, and Lindsey turns them around, bending at the waist to get her shoulder into Emily’s stomach and rugby tackle her onto the mattress. 

“Take off your clothes,” Lindsey says, pulling at Emily’s shirt.

Emily tugs her shirt over her head, but nothing else, and she rolls Lindsey over, digging her elbow into Lindsey’s side until she gasps and flops onto her back.Lindsey puts her hands on Emily’s hips, and for a moment Emily gets distracted. There aren’t a lot of things that she loves the way she loves how Lindsey’s hands feel on her hips, especially like this, straddling Lindsey and looking down into her flushed red face.

“You wanna do it like this?” Lindsey asks, and she gets just the start of a smirk on her face before Emily pinches her side and makes her squeak indignantly.

“Yeah,” Emily says, “sure, maybe. Later.”

She has to think hard about something other than riding Lindsey’s fingers to get herself to move again. When she does, she leans down to kiss Lindsey hungrily, bracing herself with both hands on Lindsey’s chest. The kiss is messy and deep, and Emily doesn’t pull away until Lindsey tries to deepen the kiss. Emily wants it, wants to let the kiss get carried away, but she wants to make Lindsey wait more than she wants anything else. She pulls back and Lindsey cranes her neck up to chase the kiss, and usually Emily would give her what she wants but tonight she won’t.

Lindsey starts to get it.

“You’re a monster,” Lindsey says.

“You have no idea,” Emily replies.

She kisses her way down Lindsey’s neck, then drags her open mouth back up along Lindsey’s throat to her ear. Lindsey makes a desperate sound in the back of her throat and Emily smiles against the shell of her ear, pressing Lindsey’s thighs apart with her hands. Lindsey shifts her hips, trying to get Emily to touch her, and Emily sits back on her heels to look. 

Lindsey didn’t used to let her look like this. It’s only recently that Lindsey’s gotten comfortable with it, and even now she’s blushing while Emily takes in the view.

“You’re so…” Emily trails off. She feels stupid for being at a loss for words, but she _is_. Sometimes she gets so caught up in Lindsey’s face that she forgets briefly how absolutely perfect Lindsey’s body is, like it’s been sculpted by some ancient Greek dude. 

“Long?” Lindsey provides helpfully, trying to turn it into a joke. Emily doesn’t let her. She shakes her head, trailing the tip of her index finger along Lindsey’s abs, admiring the way they tighten under her touch. 

“So perfect,” Emily says, “it’s not fair.”

“I am obviously not perfect,” Lindsey says, “case in point, Instagram fuckup.”

Emily had forgotten. It seems a little stupid now. Lindsey may flirt jokingly on Instagram, but Emily knows, in this moment, that Lindsey would never let anyone else see her like this. Emily may not be her girlfriend, but she’s something. 

“Thanks for reminding me,” she says, and slides down the bed so she can settle with her head between Lindsey’s thighs, where it belongs. They’ve been here like this before, but it feels different this time. Usually Emily doesn’t hesitate--she’s not sure she’s ever looked up--but tonight she does, she looks up and makes eye contact with Lindsey, resting her hands on Lindsey’s inner thighs. Lindsey’s eyes are dark and her lips are parted and if Emily didn’t want this particular thing so badly she would already have rocketed back up to kiss her.

But this is better.

She hooks her hands around the backs of Lindsey’s thighs and tugs Lindsey a few inches down the bed, to her mouth. She’s not sure how many times she’s done this for Lindsey--definitely a few by now--but she knows she hasn’t done it enough for her to feel this comfortable, for it all to feel so familiar. Usually she gives Lindsey exactly what she wants, but Lindsey’s already come once and she’s a mess and still so sensitive, and, to be honest, Emily wants to see how long she can draw this all out before she gives in or Lindsey demands what she wants. Emily knows Lindsey well enough that Lindsey won’t demand anything. Not like this.

So it’s up to her. And that’s hot. It’s almost as hot as how worked up Lindsey already is from her first orgasm, the way she squirms away from Emily’s tongue while she digs her heels into the bed to try and get closer, as if even her body can’t agree on what she wants.

Emily is very content to take her time and let Lindsey warm up again. She takes little detours to kiss and bite at Lindsey’s inner thighs whenever she feels like Lindsey is starting to get into it again, and each time she can feel the sheets moving under her when Lindsey pulls at them. The third time, Lindsey makes a frustrated sound and Emily responds by sucking a bruise against her inner thigh, holding Lindsey’s hips down and bearing down until Lindsey squeaks and reaches down to tangle her hands in Emily’s hair and move her mouth.

“At least that’s one nobody will see,” Emily jokes.

Lindsey is too far gone to joke back.Instead she bites her lips and pushes her hips just slightly off of the bed, and Emily can’t help but smirk a little bit before she goes back to working Lindsey up.

Once, she gets Lindsey to the point of reaching for her hair again, then pulls back. The second time, she gets to the point where Lindsey’s starting to go still and stiff, and then she stops, trailing kisses up to Lindsey’s belly button and back. The third time she waits until she can feel the tremors starting in Lindsey’s thighs, and then she pauses. She doesn’t move her mouth away or sit back, but she doesn’t move either, and she knows Lindsey can’t get off without that movement and friction. Lindsey groans, just once, and the clarity of the sound in the bedroom is exactly what Emily needed to hear. She doubles down until Lindsey is wracked with full-body tremors, moaning softly (which is still loud for her).

Lindsey almost suffocates Emily when she comes, though Emily can tell she’s trying not to. She loves that she needs both hands to keep Lindsey’s thighs far enough apart for her head, loves the way Lindsey’s body comes off the bed, her back arched. She’s silent now, but as soon as she makes sound again it’s _loud_, and it makes Emily lift her head.

“Jesus Christ,” Lindsey gasps, and then she opens her eyes, and gives Emily a flushed, bewildered look.

Emily laughs.

Lindsey reaches down and pulls Emily up on top of her. Emily thinks she’s going in for a kiss, but instead she holds Emily’s face in her hands and goes very serious, so suddenly that Emily’s stomach drops.

“Em,” Lindsey says, “if I post a picture of you, will you be my actual girlfriend, for real.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, “obviously duh.”


End file.
